This was just creepy. She deleted the email, but then another appeared.“Subject: An attitude adjustment will be required.”Marta opened the message... This one had a little more to it:“Hello, Marta. This is your conscience writing. Or, what passes for one. You’ve been ignoring me for too long, so I need to take drastic action.“I’m tired of us flaunting our body like a whore, teasing men to get attention and using them for favors. We should do our own work and let everyone else get to. "I dare you to be our slave today, a girl slave. If you have the guts,that is. You'll have to do everything we tell you to. Are you up forit?"Backing down now would have meant loss of face. And truth be told, assoon as she said the words "girl slave" my heart had started beating alittle faster. And I nodded my assent."Okay, lets get to work," said Debbie, immediately taking charge of thesituation. She barked a few orders at me and Sonya."Ron you go take a shower, get rid of whatever tiny little. So Geeta had with her $1,500, a nice addition to her bank account for a half shift. Her labours that day had earned her more than her parents combined had made that week, and of course Geeta would not be paying any tax. She didn't give a fuck about the CRA, as Revenue Canada now called itself. Once a month she transferred her earnings out of her account by way of a bank draft, through various numbered companies and into an account in the Caymans. One of her accountant clients had set this up. She was wearing his favorite bright blue blouse with a silky black skirt that hung loosely to her calves. She had left the blouse unbuttoned to the second button, revealing a little of herself to him and others.He had picked her up that Friday evening at her place, for the weekend, and had they had arrived at a bed and breakfast an hour later. They had laughed most of the ride; listening to Garrison Keillor on his CD player."You're breathtaking," he said softly.She grinned. "You just want.